Sometimes, sometimes no one is home on the inside  of me where my voice has no return from the words released   the inside shadow finds no shadow   the echo of a name a voice I always thought responded back from a corner I knew by comfort   where my eyes knew every blemish … More PAST DUE


A morning breeze stepped through the open window, lifting curtain edges and touching walls like the hands of a curious child.   The fragrance was fresh like laundry line dried under a forever sun.   In bed, the cotton blankets owned me within a twist of warm compassion, protecting me from the world beyond my … More CURIOUS HANDS